


Of Books and Their Covers

by beltainefaerie



Series: It's All Fine [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Genderqueer Character, Kidnapping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Prostitution, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, anti-queer language, mentions of past attempted conversion therapy, omega exploitation, scent masking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People aren’t always what they seem at first glance. A trying case brings a bit of Sherlock’s past to light and John and Sherlock navigate how to deal with their secret bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shellysbees for being a fantastic beta!
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like I should add a tag for whatever would equate to the homophobia or transphobia (internalized and external) in some of the words, thoughts and recollections of these characters, but I am not sure what to tag it in this universe.
> 
> I would love to warn people ahead of time, to avoid triggers, I just don't know what the appropriate tags are, so I figured this note would help.
> 
> Suggestions are welcome.

It was all well and good to want it. Amazing, actually, to know that they both wanted to bond. To fall in love, to feel that committed was beautiful. But it was quite another thing to choose how that was revealed. 

“You’ve worked for so long to be recognised as an alpha. Everyone knows you that way. What will our bonding do to that?”

“Likely nothing. Of course, Mycroft would know the instant he walked in whose scent is mingled with yours, but it isn’t as though he's been ignorant of our relationship to begin with. It likely won’t come as a shock.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. He seemed to think I would be walking out any moment to make a brood of miniature Watsons. Which I remind you I have no desire for.”

Sherlock laughed. “Quite clear on that now, thanks. In fact, I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but I’ve started something new. This medication should allow me to enter a heat cycle, which appears normal but I won’t be fertile. I could just have a procedure, but then I wouldn’t go into heat at all and,” Sherlock’s cheeks colored just slightly, “Well, it is something we could consider in the future, but I didn’t hate the loss of control with you.”

“It wasn’t too terrible, then.” John smirked.

Sherlock pushed him playfully before leaning in for a kiss. Pulling back and looking into John’s eyes, he whispered, “You know what I mean.”

John licked his lips.

They had been intimate several times now out of heat and it had been wonderful, but John was glad Sherlock wasn’t wanting to do anything drastic. Of course doctors never liked to perform the procedure on someone so young, convinced they would change their mind about kids, but John’s reasons were rather more selfish. Sherlock only truly felt like an omega during a heat cycle, and that was part of him. He didn’t want to lose that and imagined Sherlock didn’t either. Even aside from looking forward to the days and days of desperate shagging. Which John really, really was, to be honest.

They lost themselves in kissing for a few moments, before the conversation continued.

“After our bonding, most people should just be aware _that_ you have bonded. They wouldn’t recognise the scent. Mine is already synthetically masked. It is unlikely to change at all, but a few hours with my lab and I should be able to adjust it. If my scent changed at the same time, it would be obvious, even to the dullest of the Yard.”

“So we aren’t telling anyone?” He knew that was likely, but wanted it spelled out before they did anything. He needed to feel the words on his tongue. 

“I’d prefer not to. Not yet. There may come a time when it becomes relevant. Or when someone finds out. But not immediately. Problem?”

“No. Whatever you feel comfortable with, love. So, we are doing this?”

Sherlock met his eyes. “As long as you're sure.”

And suddenly he was. With overwhelming certainty.

“Of course I’m sure about this. About us,” John said, kissing him once more. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

“It can’t be here of course.” Sherlock said, matter of fact. Practical as always.

John felt slightly disappointed, but of course Sherlock was right. With everyone from Mrs. Hudson to half the yard showing up at their flat at all hours, it could hardly stay a secret that they were nesting.

“So where, then? Some hotel? Renting a cottage?”

Sherlock smiled faintly, tracing little circles on John’s arms. “My family has a country home. Somewhat secluded. No one would be there right now. The most surprise we could have would be Mycroft showing up. And I would honestly prefer that over telling him ahead of time. He would be likely to try to talk us out of it, and he is tedious at the best of times. This wouldn’t be the best of times.” He grimaced at the idea.

John laughed. He had no desire to be caught knotted to Sherlock, but Mycroft’s face might be worth it.

“I think I can arrange a few days off work. How soon?”

“Should be about a week off.”

“I’ll get things settled, then.”  
\---

Sherlock lay in the bed, looking utterly fucked out. His eyes had honestly welled with tears when John wouldn’t give everything to him, holding himself off just enough to avoid knotting. Much as he wanted it, John still had plans. He couldn’t resist slipping his fingers into that sensitive hole, revelling in the sight of his come dripping out of his lover. It shouldn’t be that hot, but John felt a fresh jolt of desire in the pit of his stomach just looking at him. 

Soon Sherlock was shuddering around his fingers and begging for more, as John had known he would be. Sherlock had managed his heats alone for years and John had snuck a couple toys into his case. He smiled to himself, retrieving one now. Taking Sherlock apart was going to be immensely satisfying.

The silicone cock was nearly the same size as John, but vividly purple. It flared into a knot at the base, not inflated as in orgasm, but pronounced enough for aroused alpha anatomy. 

John planned on using the toy until his own refractory period was over or his arm gave out. Never could tell with that shoulder of his. But after just a few minutes, he was surprised to find himself ready. He never expected to get hard again this fast, not outside of his rut, which shouldn’t be for another few months. But there was something about Sherlock, gorgeous even tangled in the sheets like this, breathing hard. Sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead, lips swollen from biting back moans. 

_Christ. Especially like this._

“John, please… need you... inside me.” Sherlock groaned. 

“I’m ready for you, love.” John slowly drew out the glistening toy and set it aside as he lined himself up with Sherlock’s dripping hole once more.

This time he held nothing back, driving into Sherlock, deep enough that his swelling knot made Sherlock cry out. 

“Yes, John. There, there, there.”

“John, do it! Bite me, mark me, claim me.” He was panting, his breath gloriously ragged, hardly able to get the words out. “Yours.”

And then John did. Sherlock’s perception narrowed down to just the ridges of teeth sinking into his flesh, a bright flare of pain. His awareness expanded again and the pain was muted deliciously by the pleasure of feeling John move and swell inside him. The whole of it, the bite, feeling claimed, John’s tongue sliding over the wound and prick filling him completely, so deep that all they could do was rock together. 

He nuzzled into John’s neck, breathing in his scent. He kept trying to pick apart what it reminded him of, but there was no describing it. Wool and tea and something richer, earthy, but spice too. Cardamon and cinnamon. Sherlock bit down, tasting his lover, claiming him as he was claimed. The world seemed to spin and right itself again, a giddy dizziness sending him reeling. Chemicals and sentiment, but somehow he didn’t fight it, managing for once to allow himself to be swept up. He could feel John’s pulse beneath his tongue as he lapped at the wound. 

Everything he never knew he wanted.

\---

Sherlock was still asleep when John padded down to the kitchen. They had taken the time to stock the kitchen that first day, and for as much as Sherlock complained, he would be glad of it. 

John cracked eggs and whisked them. He found the frying pan and hummed to himself as he threw on some bacon and popped bread into the toaster.

He found a huge tray and began arranging things to bring up breakfast when Sherlock appeared. His hair stuck out in all directions, mussed from sex and sleep. He was wrapped only in their sheet. John smiled up at him. “Morning, love.”

“You weren’t in bed.” Sherlock grumbled sleepily.

“I can keep this up longer if I eat. Replenish protein and all that,” John said with a smile. “And you need to drink something,” John admonished, handing him a glass of orange juice. 

Sherlock stopped protesting at that and settled down on a bar stool, snagging a piece of toast as he drank down the juice. Suddenly ravenous. John watched in delight. He could tell Sherlock hadn’t realized he was hungry until he started, but once he had, he made it through two slices of toast, eggs, and two glasses of juice as John looked on, amusement dancing in his eyes. Apparently all he had to do to get Sherlock to eat was shag him silly. Not like that would be a hardship, John smiled to himself.

When John had finished his breakfast, he took down a mixer, bowl and sugar, retrieving some heavy cream from the refrigerator. And the strawberries. Huge and red, they had been irresistible.

When the sweet cream formed stiff peaks and John set the mixer aside, Sherlock swiped his finger through the whipped cream on the beater. John swore that watching him lick it off was pure sex.

 

With the bowl of whipped cream in hand, John started for the bedroom, Sherlock trailing after with the strawberries. Sherlock plucked one from the basket and reached around John to dip a strawberry in the bowl. The moan he let out when it reached his lips was positively sinful. He dipped another, trying to feed it to John. 

“Hey now. If you start that, we are going to trip and end up in a tangled mess of strawberry jam!” John laughed, stopping them in the livingroom. 

He took one look at the white couch and rejected that out of hand. Pulling a blanket off of a nearby armchair, he spread it on the floor, like an indoor picnic, setting down the bowl of whipped cream. Sherlock nestled beside him with, curled around the basket of strawberries. 

“Want to try that again, love?”

Sherlock dipped a strawberry into the thick cream and brought it to John’s lips. He savored it, the sweetness of the cream, a perfect contrast to the slightly tart berry. Sherlock reached up and wiped away a smudge of cream from John’s lips, sucking it from his fingers.

Sherlock took another for himself, then dragged his fingers through the whipped cream, lapping it off with his tongue before dipping another berry for John.

John was hard again but without the urgency he had felt last night. They fed one another, enjoying the closeness, the sensuality before the base need of desire overtook them again in the next round of Sherlock’s heat. 

Sherlock bit into one over ripe berry, the red juice dripping down his chin. John leaned in, licking it away before crushing their lips together in a kiss. 

Soon the berries were all but forgotten.

They did manage to take breaks for food now and again, and even a shower once or twice. But primarily they were nested in the bed. Mapping one another’s bodies, bathing in their mingled scent until they were wrung out with pleasure, testing various positions and techniques in the bedroom.

And the armchair.

And the living room floor.

All in all they agreed, they couldn’t have imagined a better holiday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a day or two, but I just can't seem to manage it! 
> 
> Happy Easter to those who celebrate. Here's chapter 2.

Even days later, Sherlock felt the mark keenly, throbbing under his shirt, coat, and scarf, the multiple layers feeling more like armor than usual.

They hadn’t been in public together since the bond. Well, aside from the train home from their trip. And then no one knew them. 

Sherlock had been right about the scent. Yesterday morning was the first time he tried his usual body wash. His scent was perfectly masked as usual. And he was nearly sure it was worth it, though John had winced when he kissed him. His jaw had tightened, his hand had clenched and it didn't take much deductive reasoning to ascertain that John was upset at the effect, not being able to smell himself on his mate. Protectiveness, jealousy, and loss warred in his eyes.

“I am yours, John.” Sherlock murmured, reassuringly. 

“ _I_ know that,” John growled. “It’s more that no one else will,” he muttered and stalked off to get dressed.

He apologised later that afternoon. “I know we agreed…It is just harder than I thought. I’ll figure it out. It is worth it. _You’re_ worth it.”  
\---

Sherlock understood. More now than he had. In fact, whatever John had felt, Sherlock was positive this was worse. 

An insipid tech who was sometimes on scene when they came to help out bounded up to John immediately as Sherlock went over to the body.

“John? You bonded! I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.” Her observation did nothing to hinder her fluttering lashes or the way she casually touched his arm. She had been flirting incessantly for months. Sherlock ignored it before, but it made him want to kill something now.

A few others gathered around peppering John with questions. “Who’s the lucky little omega?”  
“You should bring her round for drinks next Thursday.” And other well-meaning, but useless, chit chat.

John blushed hotly, but before he could figure out an answer, Sherlock cut in, “Yes, John has bonded. Can anyone be bothered to overlook that small miracle of biology to fill us in about the bloody case?” 

“Alright everyone, back to work” Lestrade admonished.

Someone muttered, “Jealous, much?”

Lestrade didn’t say anything, but looked from Sherlock to John and back again. He wasn’t actually that shite a detective. John saw in his eyes that he knew. He didn’t quite understand, but he knew it was them. 

“When this is all over, come out for pint with me, eh?” Lestrade clapped John on the shoulder and whispered. “Divorce is final. I’d like to celebrate with someone. Timing might seem odd, but I’d like that to be you, if you don’t mind. Could use someone to talk to and... you might like a friendly ear to talk about a few things, too.”

Well, at least the first person to figure things out wasn’t going to be a dick about it.

“Anyway, as for the case,” he said louder, so Sherlock could follow as well, “The house belongs to two alphas. Bonded for 6 months. They had been seen fighting the night before. Disappearance reported at 8:00 AM yesterday when Chris realized that Steven never came home. In cases of adults especially, they can’t file a missing person’s report until at least 24 hours have passed. He called in sick to work for the first time in a decade and stayed here waiting, hoping that Steve would come home.

In the mean time, a ransom note had arrived. He reported that, the team arrived, and that pretty much brings you up to speed.”

Just then, “Found something!” rang out from the direction of the kitchen.

With the floor’s dark wood it would have been easy to miss in the dark, but infrared revealed faint blood smudges on the floor and one countertop. 

Sherlock studied the patterns before samples were taken. A kitchen wasn’t exactly an uncommon place to find traces of blood. people cut themselves on broken dishes or knives. Still something in the air shifted. For many of the team, it began to seem less like they were talking to a worried husband and more like they were interviewing a potential murderer.

There wasn’t room for everyone in the kitchen and John hung back. 

He couldn’t help but overhear a few of the techs chatting as they dusted for prints. Their voices were pitched low enough that he hoped the owner of the house couldn’t hear. For that matter, he wished he couldn’t either. 

“He probably did it. Their kind of pairing can’t last. It isn’t meant to.” 

“Right? It’s strictly biology. It shouldn’t happen in the first place.” 

John’s fist clenched at his side. On and on with the ignorant prattle. It was all he could do not to punch the wall. 

John couldn’t take it any more and stalked off. For the moment Chris was alone, looking helpless and lost as everyone worked around him. 

He spoke, more to himself than to John, “I knew he never made it to bed, but I figured he just slept on the couch. He was still mad. And it was so stupid. He snapped at me for forgetting our date. Shouted that the damn rent boys were more important to me than he was, since I always had time for them. He has always been supportive of my work, it was just the third time in a row I had been late or cancelled. Always the work. God, I can only image what it sounded like from the outside.” 

“Sorry? What work?”

Chris huffed out a sigh, shaking himself a little. He looked up at John quizzically, “And you are?“

“John Watson. I’m with the consulting detective.” John nodded in Sherlock’s direction. 

“Chris Matthews. I’m a counselor at The Golden Heart, a clinic specifically for teens, usually omegas. Getting them off the streets, out of prostitution and often off drugs or alcohol is my life’s work.” 

“Ah. That makes sense. I’m a doctor myself. It is easy to get wrapped up in that kind of work. Helping people.”

“It is. But they need me. They know it doesn’t matter the hour, I will be there for them. Most of them have never had that kind of stability in their lives. I generally counsel the boys. Sherie in my office works with the ladies. Unless there is some kind of traumatic contraindication, it is how they are most comfortable. I typically work with our dysphoric individuals as well. I have one on suicide watch right now. If they take me in in this mess, can you see that Sherie is contacted? Someone has to be there for that kid.”

“Of course.”

He wrote out the number and pressed it into John’s hand.

John nodded and wanted to say more, but just then Sherlock shouted, “Take a look at these.” He gestured to scuff marks on the floor by the door to the back door. 

“I have scuff marks on _my_ floor,” Anderson scoffed. 

“Unlikely that they would be like these. See the parallel marks here? You would only get those from dragging of the heels.” 

He opened the back door. “Has anyone been out here?” 

“Not yet.” Lestrade answered.

He followed the marks and disturbances in the dust, some scuff marks, some tread patterns, then returned, studying Chris.

“The shoe size is all wrong. Bigger could be faked, but not smaller. And certainly nothing so elaborate made sense for what would have to have been a crime of passion. The handwriting on the note is also clearly not his, but people can fairly readily fake that if they are the least bit intelligent. And he seems to be. Though... you are a therapist.” Sherlock looked up at Chris for this last statement, and managed to spit that last word as though it were an indictment or a curse.

“Counselor, actually. Sherlock, is it? Sherlock Holmes? I’ve heard of you. Thank you for your help with this. If anyone can prove I didn’t do this and help find my Steve, it will be you.”

Sherlock eyed him warily, but softened slightly under the praise.

Chris held out his hand.

“He helps troubled youth, Sherlock.” John said soothingly.

“Not all troubled youth need help.” Sherlock glared back, not bothering to shake the proffered hand. He rubbed his temples absently.

“It’s not you. He just doesn’t generally,” John added in an undertone and Chris’s hand dropped loosely to his side.

John led Sherlock away as the officers moved in to finish collecting evidence, and ask him pertinent questions. Hopefully something that would actually give them a lead this time.

“Sherlock, he helps omegas who've been kicked out. Helps kids that no one wants, kids that have a certain trouble with their second gender.That have fallen into drugs and prostitution. I know you aren’t the most social of creatures, but it is good work. Why the sudden attitude?”

“Nothing I’d like to get into here,” Sherlock replied coolly.

John’s jaw clenched. He wished for all the world like that Sherlock’s smooth sidestep to their conversation hadn’t felt so much like a punch to the gut. But work was work and they were trying to keep personal business out of it. It wasn’t relevant in this second to solving the case. John knew he had to let it go.

“Alright, but this isn’t done.” He sighed and walked back to the team just as Anderson had begun to grumble.

“So what now?” 

John couldn’t contain himself. “Now, you do your goddamned jobs! Stop treating this poor man like he killed the love of his life and start finding out if Steve had any enemies. Any reason someone would target him like this?”

“Other than the obvious,” someone had the audacity to mutter.

“You, out.” Lestrade said. John didn’t recognise the officer and something in Lestrade’s tone suggested he didn’t have to worry about seeing him again.

Sherlock glared at the offending officer before crossing to where Chris sat. “He did come home, presumably before you did, actually. He left against his will, but who took him and why, still remains to be seen. Had you received any threatening letters lately, any business deals gone wrong for him? Jealousies over your bond or a promotion, anything at all you can think of?”

“Nothing. No promotions or screw ups. He has never mentioned any problems there. He tends to do his job and come home.” He looked up at Sherlock sadly. “He was pretty set on keeping a low profile, not drawing unnecessary attention. Besides,” he laughed mirthlessly, “there aren’t a lot of rivalries in furniture sales.”  
\----  
‘  
“So we are home now, love. No one to overhear or interrupt, so would you mind telling me what happened today? With Chris? What was all that?”

“Therapy didn’t agree with me,” Sherlock said, his smile tight, more grimace than humour. 

“Therapy? You never mentioned...”

Sherlock sank into his chair. “The clinic had been chosen for its specialization in teens, difficulties with the transition to adulthood or adjustment to the emerging of secondary gender. It seemed like there would be some counseling, some activities with adolescents in similar situations. It was only a week. Like a sleepaway camp. But they weren’t there to help us, they were there to “fix” us. Nothing in their literature suggested their misguided mission. Nothing suggested the electroconvulsive therapy. Or withholding food and sleep. But at least I was ‘properly’ attracted to alphas...”

“Oh, Sherlock,” John breathed. It was too much to know that he had been treated so terribly. John could only imagine the parents who had sent their children to such a place knowingly.

“I can remember my mother screaming into the phone, once I was home, ‘You mean to tell me that my beautiful, genius son was subjected to treatments that actively sought to create seizures? That he has suffered time loss and amnesia? Without my express permission? And for what? To fit into some prescribed mold?’ Oh, she was glorious when she was angry.” Sherlock smiled wistfully, “I thought she was going to set the world on fire.”

“So it wasn’t on purpose, then?”

“Not at all. It undid a lot of the damage they tried to inflict, actually. To have her defend me as I am. By the time she was finished, the facility was closed down, the therapist was stripped of all licensing. It was enough. I made her believe that I had deleted it. I don’t think she ever spoke of it again. Not just with me. With anyone.”

“So, Mycroft?”

Sherlock looked up alarmed. “He has no idea.”

“Do you think he’d be such a dick if he did?”

Sherlock’s jaw tightened and he said, very quietly, “Perhaps he’d agree with them.”


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, there was nothing in Steve’s work, hobbies or finances that would have led anyone to kidnapping or revenge. While they tended to keep to themselves, they had never hidden their alpha pair bond and didn’t otherwise seem to have any devastating secrets, so blackmail was off the table. 

Turning instead to Chris, the motive became clearer. Not only was he a supportive, fantastic counselor, he was very good at helping omegas out of the life, especially those within walking distance of the clinic. A local pimp whose business was suffering had enough and decided to take revenge on the source of his income problems by kidnapping Chris’s partner. 

Through interviewing the suspects and Steve himself, the police discovered that the pimp thought it would be fitting to turn him out, both revenge and a way to make back some of their profits. When Steve was dragged off, they were surprised to discover that he was an alpha as well. While there was a market for that, it really wasn’t their area. 

The peculiar time gap before the kidnapping and the ransom note was due to the confusion and need to develop a new approach. Unfortunately, it also looked more manufactured than if it had come sooner. Valuable time had been lost while members of the yard dithered, assuming that Chris had killed his lover and thought up the kidnapping as a distraction. 

Eventually, with Sherlock’s help, they found Steven, relatively safe and sound, just terrified. 

Steven’s return home was a gratifying end to the case and John was glad to be there for it. Sherlock was pleased as well, in his own quiet way, though he wouldn’t admit it. It was one thing to give a victim’s family peace of mind and to know that justice would be done and quite another to be able to bring their loved one home. 

“I can’t believe that stupid fight was almost our last conversation. I couldn’t have lived with myself.”

“Shhh. I know. Me, too. I love you,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around Chris. 

He murmured, “I love you,” against the crook of Steve’s neck, nuzzling.

Of course they kissed. How could they not? But Sherlock and John couldn’t help but notice that a couple members of the team turned away at their reunion. 

If nothing else, it was good to know where they could expect to stand if things came out.  
\---

After that, with the case wrapped, Sherlock and John needed to get away for a little while. John took a rain check on the drink, but promised Lestrade they’d set something up soon. 

“Monday after work maybe?”

Lestrade nodded. “Sounds good. Just text me when you’re off. We know how things get in our lines of work, yeah?”

Sherlock quirked a brow at them but didn’t protest.

“So he figured it out then?” Sherlock asked

“Seems like it. Enough anyway.” John looked out the window of the cab. Lost in thought for a moment as the world slipped by. 

“Should we be worried that he could put it together?”

“Sherlock, he is a DI. he does get some things right.”

Sherlock smiled. “I wouldn’t work with him if he was a complete buffoon. And he isn’t a bad sort.” Sherlock mused. “There are worse things than Lestrade knowing. Mycroft would have told him eventually anyway.”

They were quiet after that, Sherlock brushing his fingers against John’s but not daring to actually take his hand. It would be good to be somewhere that felt safe. Neither of them seemed keen to be anywhere but home. When the cab arrived, John ran up and ordered takeaway and even had it delivered. A rare indulgence, but worth a bit of extra expense tonight.

They settled at home, for a quiet evening in, just enjoying each other and takeaway. 

\---  
Greg and John sat at a table. The chips were greasy and terrible but somehow better with the pints of whatever Lestrade had ordered. “So what clued you in?”

“Well, I am a detective after all, even if Sherlock doesn’t always think so.”

They had a bit of a laugh at that. Greg was actually fairly good at his job. Just because Sherlock was better than anyone at putting all the pieces together, didn’t mean Greg couldn’t have his moments.

“The shipping container. You smell like that. Well, not exactly, but close enough. I thought so before Sherlock sold me that story about the fake pheromones and our suspect. I bought it, but… Between your scent and the way he was looking at Lacey, I made the connection. He never looks pleased when you are flirting, but I thought we were going to have another homicide to deal with for a moment there.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

John shook his head at that, laughing a bit. 

“Well,” Lestrade said, “who am I to deny love, eh? It isn’t like regular folks have it all figured. Clearly _I_ don’t have the whole of it. How many times could that woman cheat and I just let it go? Fuck.”

_Regular folks._

That shouldn’t be upsetting. John was sure Lestrade didn’t mean it that way, but it was grating nonetheless.

“You know I thought it was you at first. In those moments before Sherlock spun his story. Bit short for an alpha.” Lestrade said, quirking a smile. There was no malice in it, just friendly teasing.

“Not the first one to notice that,” John said mildly.

“Even more glad I sent the team off for their masks that day. Even if they caught a whiff, they might not have put it together, but it’s still better. You must have been nervous as hell.  
Now I know you’re an actual alpha. Your scent is clearly what you always smell like, just bonded. So… it wasn’t that much of a stretch. But why does he do it? Hormonal bullshit. Is it the Work? Why not just be an omega?”

John looked mildly disappointed. “You don’t honestly expect me to answer that do you?”

Greg failed to notice and pressed on, “But how could Sherlock bloody Holmes not be an alpha?”

“There you are, then. Maybe we are more complex than biology. Maybe it doesn’t dictate everything. Charisma and intelligence aren’t exactly determined by the knot in your prick!” John was getting too drunk for this. He knew it. Greg wasn’t trying to be a tit. He set his pint glass down a bit more forcefully than he intended.

“Shit. I’m sorry. John. I am just trying to understand. I didn’t mean anything about omegas, or even about him. I’m just…”

“I know. ’s alright.” John slurred, heaving a sigh.

“Anyway, it must be easier that he isn’t an alpha.”

“What would be wrong with that?” John said sharply. 

“ _Nothing_ would be wrong with that. That’s what I’m saying, John. I don’t care. You two are clearly perfect for each other and whatever biology has nothing to do with it.”

“Sorry, Greg. Just a bit touchy on all this. I know you and I’m sure you mean well. We hadn’t planned on telling anyone. Lots of reasons and I will let him decide if he wants to talk about it. But, just don’t mention it to anyone, yeah?”

“Of course. None of their business. Wasn’t any of mine either, I just… I’ve bollocksed this all up.” He downed the rest of his pint and signalled for another before he continued. “I was with an alpha at uni.”

“What?”

Greg laughed. “Should have opened with that, yeah?” He looked down for a moment, “I think finding that out is what set my wife off. She thought it was all appearances. She wouldn’t believe that I loved her. That I wanted _her_. It was all just black and white. Alpha or omega. Queer or not. She couldn’t live with it.”

“I’m so sorry, Greg.” John said, because what else _could_ you say. 

“She figured I’d been having an affair with an alpha all along. Or would be soon. Nothing I said would convince her. And having a job that requires sudden schedule shifts and occasionally working overnights didn’t help. So she cheated, but I never did. Finally it was just easier to part than to try to convince her.”

John blinked. That was all... unexpected.

“Anyway,” Lestrade continued, “I am happy to talk. I know what things can be like. To most people, you’ll look like an alpha pair. Just, be careful. And, well, if things come up that you want to talk about, I’d be honored. If you want to.”

John grinned. For as awkwardly as he went about it, Greg was actually being quite sweet. “I’ll keep that in mind. Did you know, before your alpha? Had you felt that pull before?”

Lestrade shook his head. “I didn’t even know anyone could feel that way. It wasn’t even talked about where I was from. There were only alpha-omega bonds. No one else _could_ bond if you were to believe my health teacher. Well, and betas, but it wasn’t the same.”

John just shook his head. “At least the possibility was acknowledged in mine. Discouraged and framed to be tragic and dire, but discussed at any rate. Every other relationship I’ve had has been the traditional alpha-omega. It took me a while to even realize I’d fallen for Sherlock. And I am still not sure I’d ever have told him. Then we got locked in and… everything just fell into place. Still sorting through how we should deal with everything, though.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be him. And in the mean time I’ll see about some sensitivity training for the team. Some of that with the last case was inexcusable. No one should have to listen to that bullshit.”

“And you never know, right? I wouldn’t have guessed about you.” 

John suddenly wondered if Sherlock had known. “Mind if I mention it to Sherlock?”

Lestrade practically snorted. “As if he hadn’t figured it out by the way I part my hair or somewhat. Feel free.”

They finished their drinks and John walked home. All in all, it had been a good night. He had a lot to think about, but at least there was someone besides Sherlock he could talk to.   
\---

Later that week, on a case, John heard, his name and turned.

“Hey, John!” One of the guys he sometimes grabbed a pint with and groused about whatever match was on, ran up and clapped him on the shoulder. Matt was not exactly a friend, but closer than an acquaintance. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” John smiled. He was trying to get used to this. Bonding apparently elicited all kinds of congratulations he wasn’t expecting.

“Do you need any help moving?”

Well, apparently congratulations and bizarre, well-meaning questions. “Moving?” John asked, perplexed.

“Well you aren’t going to keep living with Sherlock, are you? Seems like it would be hard to take care of your omega there.”

John startled. Of course that was going to be the assumption. Shit.

“Thanks, but it is really complicated,” John floundered. “We’re fine. I’m, um, I’m not moving.”

“Thankfully,” Sherlock interrupted smoothly, “His omega understands the importance of the work we do. That it comes first. I do make sure that they have plenty of time together,” he added with a smirk. 

John’s glare said ‘Sherlock, don’t push it’ clearly enough that he didn’t need words.  
\---

“I am fine with not announcing it to the universe. It isn’t like I thought I’d start a lovely blog about our sex life, Sherlock. But I don’t want to lie. Surely someone will figure out there isn’t an omega in my life. If people assume we are together or are rude enough to ask, what do you want me to do?”

“We are together,” Sherlock said simply.

“But they’ll see us as two alphas.”

“Are you honestly bothered, John?” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he looked John over, realisation dawning. “Ah. Not the associations. You’re well over that. It is the half-truth of it. But I don’t honestly care for most of the idiots know the particulars.”

They were silent a moment before Sherlock pronounced, “And besides, it isn’t anyone’s business how we fuck.” 

John looked up a bit shocked. Sherlock so rarely cursed.

Sherlock looked serene and contemplative for a moment, coming out of it with a wicked grin, his eyes alight. “Although, I suppose telling them in excruciating detail would likely turn them off asking invasive questions forever.” 

John shook his head, his cheeks coloring.

“Alright, probably not. I could deduce something equally intimate about them and then they might leave us alone?” he suggested.

“You might do that anyway. And for those like today that assume by the bond scent that I have an omega squirreled away somewhere?”

“I thought I fielded that quite well today. Not many would recognise an alpha paired scent as distinct from other bonding. Too uncommon for them to have a reference. So, if you’d prefer they know we are together I could adjust the formulation of my pheromones.”

“So, no matter who we tell, you’d just still rather the world sees you as alpha.”

“Yes. For now. Unless it bothers you. It’s more true than not. Otherwise, I’m just a freak.”

John winced. “Not to me.” John kissed him tenderly, sweeping a few errant curls back from his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Rutobuka2 created amazing art from the strawberries and cream scene. I am thrilled!
> 
> http://tiger-in-the-flightdeck.tumblr.com/post/88660993717/someone-very-special-to-me-beltainefaerie-is


End file.
